The Pirate and the Yarn Spinner
by Hellborne
Summary: The Captain of the Black Pearl listens to some of his favorite stories as told by a Tortuga storyteller.


The Pirate and the Yarn Spinner, by Hellborne of the Caribbean - PG-13

Copyright. Characters, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.

Typing convention/ is used for thoughts. is used for scene and time changes.

Summary: The Captain of the Black Pearl listens to some of his favorite stories as told by a Tortuga storyteller.

Beta: The great BetaGoddess Pendragginink. She's fantastic! And way too modest for her own good!

NOTE: I live for reviews. It's the only payment a fanfic writer receives for all the work they put into their stories. I don't ask for praise (necessarily...grin), merely a note to tell me whether you like it or not, or where it needs improvement plot-wise, especially if my writing style needs improvement...and I even enjoy out-n-out flames. So please take a moment to let me know what you think. Ok?

The captain of the Black Pearl plodded more than he swaggered up the main street of Tortuga, his throat dry and his back sore after a hard day overseeing and for most of the day joining the crews of skilled shipwrights laboring over the refit of his precious Lady. She was finally happy, having had all three masts replaced since limping into port using the sweeps.

Pausing himself at the doorway of the Faithful Bride, he heard the words "Captain Jack Sparrow" and looked around. There, sitting on a nearby keg in the shade of the overhanging second floor of the tavern was an old salt with one leg, a large blue parrot perched on his crutch, and a patch over his eye. Seventy years old if he was a day, and the Captain grinned at the epitome of a picture-book pirate, something HE would certainly never be able to pull off. The old man was surrounded by many of the urchins of the area, who were sitting in the dirt in rapt attention as the old man spoke.

The forty-seven-year-old ship captain, once an urchin himself, after all, leaned on the wall and listened as fascinated as the children while the old man told stories about the various antics and adventures of the notorious Black Pearl and her nefarious captain, or was it the glorious Black Pearl and her barbarous captain. "Oh, why not all?" the smallest one of them all begged and there was laughter all around.

Captain Jack Sparrow sashayed across the plank to the Good Queen Ann, strutted a bit and stood before the cowering passengers and crew and grinned broadly, his three gold teeth flashing in the sunlight. "You've been mighty hospitable to us, mates, and I'm right glad to have been the pirate wot plundered you." He turned to his first mate. "Make sure they have sufficient supplies to make landfall, and just to show them the extent of our good will, have Mr. Lionel serve them a right friendly farewell feast," then he whispered loudly enough to be overheard, "and since they ain't pirates, mate, tell him to leave the gunpowder out this time, eh?" He turned back to the still-trembling crowd and swaggered a low cavalier bow to the captain of the ship. "Mate? I do so appreciate the way you just up and surrendered right off, without bloodshed, most reasonable man you are. I do hate being forced into killing people. Now then."

He put his finger to his chin and rolled his eyes, considering. "Since you ARE a reasonable man, I do have need for a couple of crewmen. I see among your men two wot'll do just perfectly. Your doctor, for one. Our ship's doctor, God rest his soul, had the poor taste to up and die on us last week. Nasty accident, that was." The pirate looked mournful for a moment and then brightened. "Unless you have a passenger who's a doctor?"

The captain glumly shook his head. Jack nodded. "You shouldn't have any problems without 'im, I'm thinkin'...there's a right fine port only a day's sailin' south o' here. British even. I'm sure you can get a replacement there. But I also need a helmsman wot isn't too high and mighty-arsed to man the bilge pump if the need should arise." He looked around. "That man," Jack pointed at a tall man with long, curly brown hair, "was the one steering when ye heaved to. From what I saw, he's a right fine pilot. I'll take 'im."

The men in question balked. The doctor objected to tending pirates, and the helmsman declared he was married.

Jack strode over till he was face to face with the doctor, well inside the man's personal space. "Doctor, seein' as how we've not harmed a hair on anyone aboard...yet, anyway...and this ship will be safely in port by midday tomorrow, 't is clear sailin' till at LEAST tomorrow night, and I have injured men wot need your help, your duty is clearly NOT to remain on this ship. According to the sacred and solemn oath you swore to Apollo they physician, heathen god that he is not withstanding, when you were granted your Medicinae Doctor, you cannot refuse, seein' as how there ain't no loopholes mentioning pirates not being included. However, as I'm a fair man, we'll be in a friendly port in two weeks where I can get a replacement doctor. At that time, you may either leave our fine company with a full share of the swag, or you name the port once we have a new doctor and I swear on pain of death we'll sail there directly for you.

That you WILL be joining my fine crew is not a negotiable point." The pirate suddenly stepped backwards, turned, and swooped a small child out of its terrified mother's arms. "However, how many innocent passengers are left ALIVE on this ship," he tossed the child into the air and caught it deftly, making it crow in delight, "after we've sailed off," he perched the chuckling child precariously on the ship's rail, supported only lightly by his one hand at its back, "is entirely up to you, Doctor. Ships and folks wot get sent to Davey Jones don't require your services, and my crew does." Jack's previously merry eyes now reflected the sharply focused stare of a predator. "Now, what is your name, sir?"

"I am Dr. Phelps."

"Thank you, Dr. Phelps." The pirate captain scooped the child off the rail, relaxing the firm grip he had maintained on its leg all the while, and with a final toss into the air, returned the giggling child to the arms of its grateful mother, where it instantly reached out its tiny arms to him and began wailing; Jack effected a satisfied smirk, and, somewhat stunned by the lung capacity of such a small being, staggered over to the helmsman. "I give you the same options, mate. And further, should you decide to stay with us, that share is likely to be far more money to send back to your bonnie lass. Where is she, anyway?"

"London."

"If ye do stay on, we can always move her to Tortuga, no cost for the passage of course. 't is a lot freer than she's used to, I'll warrant, but by and by she'd get used to it."

"I'm not interested."

"THAT'S interesting. Very well then. Again, we'll take ye to any port ye wish as soon as I have a replacement. What's your name, man?"

"Turner."

"Thank you, Mr. Turner." Jack backed up and spoke to them both. "Now then, gents, hop across t' me ship and sign the ship's articles. That'll guarantee ye your shares and a billet rather than a stay in our fine brig till your much needed services are required."

Both men were clearly hesitant, but made their way across the plank, followed by Jack and the rest of the boarding party. "Remember Captain, sail due south and you'll be snug in a British port by tomorrow noon."

The Black Pearl majestically set sail and became a speck on the horizon.

The pirate captain tipped his beloved, battered tricorn off his forehead a bit and smiled whimsically as the old man finished the story of how Bootstrap Bill Turner joined the crew of the Black Pearl.

The old sailor looked down at the scrawny little boy tugging on his bootstrap. "Here, wot's this?"

"Please, Sir? Would Captain Sparrow really have harmed the baby?"

The old man sat back, considering the very wide eyes and open mouths of his small audience. "Oh, well now, THAT one, no...no, ye see, son, it's the usual habit for the fierce n' fearsome captain of the Black Pearl to throw the little 'uns back. No meat on their bones, don't ye know. But a brae and brawny bit o' bacon such as yerself, laddie," the storyteller leaned over and gave the boy's nose a gentle tweak, "now THERE be fine eatin'."

As the children dissolved in giggles, the boy buried his face in his arms and hugged his knees, wriggling his bare toes in delight at the deliciously scary thought of being worthy enough to be captured and eaten by pirates.

The listening pirate captain had to bite his lip and look away to avoid bursting into laughter. He waited till he caught the old man's eye over the heads of the merry urchins, grinned his approval at him and tossed him a shilling. "Good story, old man. Let's have another."

The old man caught it smoothly out of the air and winked, tucking the coin into his purse. "Right ye are, mate."

A bar maid strolled out the door of the Bride and brought the old man a mug. Seeing the Black Pearl's captain, she scurried inside for another mug, bringing it out to him and curtsied when he gallantly kissed her hand, and accepting no money, went back inside, blushing furiously.

Jack Smith, bo'sun and helmsman of the Black Pearl patiently waited for the fortuneteller to finish chanting and rocking so that he could hear his fortune.

The woman finally stopped and appeared to stare THROUGH him. The look she gave him made Jack shudder. "You shall have the longest pirate career in all history. You'll command the fastest ship of its time, and your skills shall make you admired by all who follow the black flag. Your ability to sense weather changes is not the same as ordinary men; you have the Gift, though it needs to be seasoned and honed. You shall retire a wealthy man and will be a happy man until you die rich in years. Your knack of survival is that of a sparrow flying through a storm." She told him of many things he would do in his life: from fantastical escapes to fighting living skeletons. Jack grinned, his single gold tooth glinting in the candlelight. "You shall have many mishaps but have no fear; you are fated to survive them all. Your retirement will be shared with your best friend. Go thus forth, sparrow, and fly free."

The fortune teller fell forward onto the table, then lifted her head to stare at Jack. "I hope my information is useful to you. I ken nothing of what I say in my trance."

He had to admit she was good. She was very, very good. The eighteen-year-old pirate didn't see her make even one slip-up. She actually seemed to be the real thing. "That's interesting. Thank you, Madam Louisa, for a most entertaining afternoon." He took two shillings from his coin purse and dropped them on the table. "I bid you adieu." He bowed and left.

Throughout the evening, Jack's thoughts kept returning to her words, "your knack of survival is that of a sparrow flying through a storm." He liked that idea. It made him feel strong, daring...and because of his youth...invincible. At the end of the party the crew had thrown to celebrate a prosperous trip, Jack came to a decision. He made his way to the ship's artist and sat next to him. Mr. Gordon was awake and looked fairly sober, so Jack asked him for a tattoo.

"Sure, lad. What would you like? I'm very good at ships, skulls, and I can even put a belly dancer on your bicep that'll dance for you when ye flex your muscles."

"No, mate. I want a sparrow swoopin' down from the sky, like coming out into the sunlight from a storm."

Gordon looked at him askance. "Now why would ye want something so unmanly as that?"

"'t is not unmanly, mate. 't is my new name: Jack Sparrow. I want it right here." He pointed to his right forearm.

"Jack Sparrow, eh? Well, a sparrow at sea is fair good luck they say, and you've taken us through enough storms since you were made a helmsman that I'll not argue. All right, lad. A sparrow on your arm should remind everyone how well ye pilot a ship. Come on. I've got my kit onboard the Pearl." The two shipmates left the pub.

When they arrived back at the ship, Gordon fetched his tattooing kit and met Jack on the bridge, the younger man's altogether favorite place on the ship. They sat on the back rail with a large keg between them for a table and the tattooist brought out what appeared to be a thin dagger made of stone. Jack quirked an eyebrow. "I would have thought you'd use steel, mate, not some tribal knife."

Gordon grinned. "Don't worry, Jack. This flint knife is sharper than steel and won't lose its edge for what I use it for. Plus, it can't rust. So let's see your arm."

Jack removed his shirt and held his arm forward.

True to his word, Gordon's knife sliced through Jack's skin cleanly, causing very little pain at all. He rubbed the ink into the cuts slowly and carefully so as not to spread to where it wasn't wanted. Slowly but surely the tattoo took form, with Jack broadly grinning at every finished line. When he was finished, Gordon wrapped a striped rag around Jack's arm and tied it tight enough to stop the bleeding. "There you go, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack grinned. "It's perfect, mate." He fished a shilling out of his coin purse and gave it to Gordon.

Mr. Gordon put the coin away and grinned back at Jack. "And don't you worry none, Mr. Smi-er-Sparrow. I'll spread the word of your new name. I think it fits better than your real name, somehow." He looked at the sky, judging the time by the star positions. "Oops! I've got to get back. I don't want Lucy alone at the Bride for too long. I'm afraid one of those sons of whores will think she IS one and take her upstairs against her will."

Jack nodded, thinking it must be wonderful to have a wife like Gordon's, then thought twice about it; he was madly in love with the Black Pearl herself and she was a jealous mistress. He gave his goodbyes and went below to his billet cradling his sore arm; he'd had a long day.

The pirate drained his ale and went inside for another one, returning almost immediately, an extra mug in hand, which he gave to the old man, who had just finished draining his.

"Thanks, mate, yarn spinnin' is thirsty work."

The younger man nodded. "And you've told the best for twenty years, old man. Give us another one."

"Aye." He thought for a moment and snapped his fingers. "I've got one I haven't told for nigh on ten years. Let's see how ye like it, eh?"

Captain Jack Sparrow looked through his spyglass again, frowning. "She looks to have been pillaged, but whoever sacked her never sunk her. I don't see anyone alive on board." He turned his head to the lookout. "Hoy Purvis! Any movement over there!"

"Naught other than the gulls, Cap'n!"

Jack turned to his first mate. "Bill, what say you to boarding her and seeing what we find, eh? Just be sure we treat her as havin' a hostile crew. I want no surprises."

"Aye, Jack. I'll get us in close."

The Black Pearl hove to perfectly, attached the lines and ran out the planks. Still there was no response from the ghost ship, as Jack came to think of it.

As the crew scoured the rest of the ship, Jack found the Great Cabin and looked for the captain's journal or anything else that would explain all the bodies onboard. Jack heard the splashes as his men gave the dead proper burials at sea.

As he carefully removed the logbook from beneath a young boy's body at the desk, he saw a mist forming in the corner of the cabin. Being a modern man, not subject to belief in magick, he stared as it took the shape of a man.

Jack grinned, his five gold teeth gleaming in the light of the rising sun streaming through the rear windows of the ship. "You're not real, mate." He started reading the last page of the journal, but was interrupted by the spirit that he was trying his best not to believe in.

"I am. And I am grateful that you are giving my crew and my son a proper burial. Grateful enough to give you the only treasure left on this ship. On my son's baldric, there is a compass. Take it."

Jack carefully brought the boy's body to a sitting position and took the compass. He opened it, look at it incredulously. "You're calling a broken compass 'treasure'?"

"All treasure is not silver and gold, good sir, and no, It is not broken. That compass shall bring you to a very special island. The island is a treasure trove beyond the dreams of avarice, enough for you and all your crew to retire as rich men."

"And why didn't you go fetch it yourself?"

"We were on our way there when we were attacked. But beware of a stone chest of strange-looking gold pieces." The spirit proceeded to tell Jack of the Aztec curse. "Keep the compass secret even from your closest friends. I also bequeath you my journal, maps, and all of my rutters." An area of the wall popped open and Jack's eyes grew wide as he saw all the carefully rolled papers.

"Thank you, Captain...er..."

"Long. Horace Long. Remember, Sir, to keep it secret." The spirit disappeared.

Jack attached the compass to his own baldric, gathered up the journal and the rolled charts and left, signaling two of the crew into the cabin to remove the boy's body for sea burial. At the end of the funeral, Jack said a short memorial to the officers and crew of the Fattened Goose, and a special little note about the boy being too young for such a cruel death.

Then he threw his fancy, gray, ostrich-plumed hat over to honor them, and turned to leave. He nearly tripped over an old, weather-beaten, leather tricorn hat he hadn't noticed before. Jack leaned down, picked it up, made a sweeping gesture of thanks to the helm, and departed the ship, not looking back. The hat was a perfect fit.

As the Fattened Goose was lost to the depths from the charge of powder set off in her bilge, Jack placed the hat over his heart and saluted her. "Farewell, Captain Long. May you and your crew find a better place in the hereafter."

The old man gazed around at all the children. "And that's how Captain Jack Sparrow got his magick compass...and his hat." He saluted the pirate captain, whose eyes twinkled merrily. "So how'd I do then, mate?" The old man watched the pirate captain expectantly, holding out his hand, as the man in question laughed and tossed him another shilling. "Good enough, old man. How many more stories do you plan on telling today?"

The old man thought for only a moment before making his decision. "How much more money ye got in that fine purse o' yours?"

The younger man grinned. "Not enough for your habits, old man, but enough to purchase a ha'penny sack of roasted goobers apiece to spoil their dinners for these young scalawags you've been corrupting here."

He fished in his purse as delighted shouts erupted from the children and delivered several coins into the hands of the oldest girl among them; both men laughed as the children scampered off in a cloud of dust to find the nut-monger.

"With shells, so they last longer," the grinning pirate called after them.

"It's a good man you are, Captain, you know those peanuts are going to BE dinner for half of them."

The pirate rolled his eyes and made a great show of carefully adjusting his hat to draw attention from the pleased smile he couldn't hide. "And I'll thank you to keep word of such dastardly good deeds quiet you broken down grizzled old coot; I can't take the chance of ruining my reputation as a ferocious pirate."

"Broken down is it? I'll have you know I can heave you up with a runnin' bowline four times before breakfast the sickest day I'll ever see, and I'll just be goin' now afore I be tempted to turn ye over my knee fer not respectin' yer elders."

The pirate threw his head back and laughed heartily, holding up his hands in surrender. "Shaking in my boots, mate. Tell you what. I'll walk you home. The streets don't look safe tonight."

The old man's eyebrows rose. "Now, ye don't say! Pshaw! They're safe enough. But as long as you insist, I'd be right proud t' have the honor of protecting the ferocious Captain of the Black Pearl whilst he helps me old bones home, good man that he is, AND a good pirate." He grinned, his twelve gold teeth gleaming in the dying sun.

"Oh Jack! Will you never stop the flattery?"

"Oh AYE, that I will, William, when ye stop deserving it."

The ex-captain of the Black Pearl grabbed the crutch leaning on the wall next to him and stood without help, the parrot fluttering onto his shoulder. Captain William Turner took the parrot on his own shoulder and stood by, letting Jack make the first move to take HIS arm and then helped the nearly blind old pirate make his way through the streets and alleyways. They walked arm in arm slowly out of the area, chattering with the easy banter and laughter of men young at heart and the old friends they were while the parrot repeatedly squawked "show us yer ankles" at any female over fifteen that they passed.

End

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